Aftershocks
by SpyKid18
Summary: Sometimes words are not enough.  Cristina and Owen, the night of the shooting.


**A/N: This is my first Grey's Anatomy story. I recently picked the show back up (I watched it avidly for the first three seasons) and have subsequently fallen in love with Cristina/Owen. They are such an interesting pairing and after watching Season 6 finale last night, I couldn't resist this. Enjoy :)**

Aftershocks

The apartment was empty. Arizona and Callie were still helping out at the hospital. Karev was lying in a hospital bed with a tube stuck in his chest, Lexi beside him holding his hand while Sloan looked on from the sidelines. It was only Cristina and Owen in the apartment and for all the chaos of the day, Cristina found the silence just as unnerving.

She wanted to speak but could find no words to properly express all that had happened. The words that she could think couldn't express the magnitude of what they had gone through.

Shooter.

How could a seven letter word explain the terror? How could that seven letter word be enough to explain the death and pain? It didn't. No word known to Cristina properly summed up exactly what she was thinking, so she chose not to speak.

"Say something," Owen murmured softly, his voice the only thing making sense in the chaos of her mind.

Reid dead.

Shepard lying in his own blood.

A gun to her head.

She grasped his shirt without realizing it, pressing herself against him. They were lying in bed, chills racking her body that even the heaviest blanket couldn't fix. Even Owen's body against hers couldn't stop her trembling. She couldn't get the vision of the gun out of her mind. She only saw it from her peripheral vision at first, a fleck of black amid the blood and tissue.

It had barely registered at the time. She was too intent on saving her best friend's husband. She knew Meredith would never forgive her if she let him die. In that OR, standing above Sheperd, Cristina thought that she would never forgive herself. It didn't matter when Jackson froze or when the man's voice rang out in the OR, hard and distraught. Still, her hands moved.

"I was so scared, Owen," she finally said, her voice sounding strange. It took her a moment to realize that she was crying.

"I know," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. "I know."

"The bullet was right beside the aorta. Just one little slip and I would have killed him. I would have killed my person's husband."

"But you didn't. You saved him, Cristina. You saved him."

She shifted beside him and glanced up at him hurriedly when she heard him wince. He put on a brave face, shaking his head and telling her, "I'm fine. Just-I'm fine."

"Your shoulder," she mumbled, touching the bandaged spot softly. "God Owen, you should have stayed outside."

"Not a chance," he said.

"You and your hero complex," she bit out. "You could have died. I would have killed two people then."

"I wasn't going to stay outside when the woman I loved was still in danger," he told her. "And besides, this is nothing," He glanced down at the bandage. "I've had worse."

She wrapped her arm around his torso, haunted by the sounds of blank shots and Meredith screaming. She squeezed her eyes shut, fruitlessly hoping she would open them again and things would go back to normal. She opened her eyes.

"Cristina-"

"It really did happen, all of it," she murmured in quiet disbelief. "I can't believe it all really happened."

"You're in shock. Just try to sleep."

"I want to stay up," she said immediately. "What if something happens with Derek and-"

"There are doctors there to take care of all of that," he told her.

"Not for Meredith." She looked up at him. "I'm her person, Owen. I can't sleep, not when she might need me."

He stared at her for a moment and she begged for him to understand. She knew that him and Meredith didn't have the best relationship but she had to understand what Meredith meant to her. He removed his arm from around her shoulders and she felt a chill run down her spine again as he began to move.

"Owen."

He climbed from the bed and then offered her his hand. "Come on, if you're going to wait up, so am I. We'll put on the television or something. It'll be a good distraction."

She smiled softly and took his hand, letting him pull her from the bed. Together they padded into the living room and settled onto the couch. Owen put on some comedy and she pretended to watch. As commercials flashed on the screen he covered her hand with his.

They stay that way for a while, both staring listlessly at the screen. Neither could have relayed a bit of the episodes' plots but the normalcy of the act was comforting. Owen glanced at the clock.

"Cristina."

"What?"

"Midnight," he murmured. "It's over. New day, it's behind us now."

She squeezed his hand, wishing she could believe him. The truth was, the horror was far from being over.

**A/N: Did I keep everyone in character? Let me know what you think.**


End file.
